A Study in Thedas
by inkalla
Summary: A girl must learn to live in her favorite fictional world: Thedas. It's turning out to be a lot harder than she could ever have imagined. [Modern Girl in Thedas, 100 word drabbles]
1. The Foreigner

**The Foreigner**

* * *

An endless blanket of pure white snow surrounded her, unbroken by footprints. The scouts claimed she hadn't been there ten minutes before. She spoke a strange language and wore things not even an Orlesian would dare. Unwilling to take chances, the commander ordered her shackled and escorted to the Skyhold dungeon.

Seeker Pentaghast pondered if the girl was a demon. Leliana defended that the poor thing was a mage, after consulting with the resident Fade expert. The commander—almost use to dealing with crazy things—opined they should wait for the Inquisitor.

Only Josephine thought to teach the girl Common. 

§

The Herald's Rest was the perfect way to keep tabs on the girl, and so that was where they assigned her. The barkeep thanked them for the extra help; the minstrel praised her pretty singing voice; and all Sera said was, "Have you seen what her tongue can do with a cherry?"

Despite their drunken revelry, the Chargers also kept a watchful eye between missions. "Not a fighter," Krem reported. "Too clumsy, lousy stamina. No callouses on her hands either. She hasn't worked a day in her life."

Bull, however, had a speculative gleam in his eye. "She knows Qunlat." 

§

"Your Common is progressing nicely," Josephine said one day over tea. The Girl from Nowhere had become a pet project of sorts. "Your mother tongue, what was it called again?"

"Ing-glish," enunciated the girl.

"I never thought to ask. Do you speak any other languages?"

She hesitated for only a second, but it was a second too long. Her warm brown eyes, so expressive, glanced down into her teacup. "No." A blush colored her cheeks. "I know… bad words? How you say…?"

The ambassador made a note to speak again with The Iron Bull. "Curses? Swears?"

"Yes! 'Curses' and 'swears'." 

§

As usual, The Iron Bull did all his spying out in the open. He peppered Common with Qunlat around the girl whenever the chance presented itself. A smile tugged on her lips at certain things, like his requests for more _maraas-lok_. She frowned when he referred to anyone as _bas_. When he explained the term _aqun-athlok_ to some simpleton giving Krem a hard time, there wasn't even a hint of surprise on her face.

Her reactions were small, but they did exist. The more Bull spoke, the more he was sure she understood more than cusses.

So, a fellow _hissrad_. 

* * *

2016.22.09: _This story simply wouldn't leave me alone until I put pen to paper, so to speak. It has been outlined and drafted; all that remains is to write each 100-word snippet and bundle them into chapters. Anticipate new chapters every three days unless stated otherwise._


	2. Homesick

**Homesick**

* * *

"She's not from here or there," Cole said, pale eyes unfocused. "She came from in-between… or maybe upside down. Things from nowhere end up somewhere. Where did 11 go?"

Sister Leliana stared where the spirit boy had been less than a second ago. Why she had expected anything other than mysteries and riddles, she couldn't say. With a shake of her head, the spymaster turned and climbed back down the stairs to the heart of the tavern.

Varric was sitting with the Chargers. The girl was serving them. "So, Cherry—that's you—I hear you can do a neat trick…"

§

Chamber pots were a disgusting but necessary evil. The miracle known as the toilet had yet to be introduced. She had been aware of this on some deep level. Knowing about something, however, was very different from experiencing it. Cherry did not care at all for the experience of pissing into a smelly bowl. She cared even less for the idea of some poor chamber maid scrubbing away at stubborn shit stains.

Twice a day, she cleaned out her own pot. If the only other person she noticed doing that was Sera… well, at least she was in good company.

§

Oh, how much time her cell phone had eaten! Hands, always hanging awkward and empty, itched for something to do. She fidgeted like a crack whore craving another fix. What on earth had people done before the World Wide Web?

The lack of a cell phone wasn't a serious bother until Cabot first left her alone behind the bar. Cherry stared down at the ledger as her stomach sank into her boots. Although Josephine had not yet taught her to read, it seemed numbers still looked the same. Unfortunately, mental math wasn't her strong suit… and there was no calculator.

§

Loneliness settled in faster than the girl noticed. When she wasn't working a shift at the tavern, she was eating or sleeping. All of her wages, meager as they were, went to necessities and booze.

Master Dennet woke her once and said, "If I find you passed out in the hay again, you'd bloody well better get up and help feed the horses." Gruff but kind, the old man sent her away with a fresh canteen of water.

She ran from the barn with red, tear-streaked cheeks. Of all the things she pined for, Cherry missed her horse the most.

§

Towers of glass set aflame during sunsets. Metallic contraptions whizzing down smooth, paved roads at dizzying speeds. A flattened box with portraits that moved, a window to events playing out elsewhere.

Solas watched the girl's dreams and saw faint echoes of home.

Cherry was a human. Not a mage or a spirit or a demon. Just a human. Nevertheless, her dreams transformed the Fade in ways most people could never begin to imagine. Watching the scenery shift and change left him with more questions than answers.

Spirits rejoiced against her sleeping mind. Demons prowled ever closer.

He would observe further.

* * *

2016.23.09: _Writing this story is progressing faster than planned. Although one update every three days is still the goal, don't be surprised if there are daily updates._


	3. The Public House

**The Public House**

* * *

A great many patrons of Herald's Rest treated Cabot well and tipped him even better. No one looked down on the man for being a dwarf (figuratively speaking). Still, as time passed, it became clear that women's eyes tended to focus on other conquests. If a human female hit on their resident bartender at all, chances were she was some kind of fetishist.

Once in a while, his unique brand of humor enticed a willing woman. Those were the nights he left Cherry in charge of the bar. His parting words of advice: "Avoid mixing anything that tastes like nug."

§

People flocked to The Iron Bull. Most of them tried to play it smooth, but it was easy to tell what they wanted. Men and women alike allowed their eyes to roam over exposed qunari flesh when they thought themselves unobserved. Other serving girls found excuses to touch him; a playful slap on a muscled shoulder, a hand resting on top of one twice as big. Even Krem looked—just the once—after Cherry gave him too many refills.

Bull seemed to enjoy the attention. He seldom left the tavern alone. She noticed, though, that all his partners were gossips.

§

The only person who came on to Sera was Maryden.

Sera insisted the song written in her honor was creepy. She made it clear that if their resident minstrel harbored any desires, those feelings were full stop unrequited. Wisely, Maryden never acknowledged the rogue's accusations. However, she wrote no more songs about the Inquisitor's inner ring of trusted companions. Well, no more that were quite so on the nose, anyway. The raven-haired musician kept her lyrics general and relevant to current events.

It made Cherry a bit sad. Who wouldn't love a song written especially about them?

Sera—that's who.

§

Herald's Rest was not, as the name suggested, a peaceful retreat from the chaotic Skyhold lifestyle. If anything, it compounded the chaos.

People gathered to drink and carouse and socialize.

They also gathered to hash out deals and settle differences.

Most of all, they gathered to flirt.

Cherry saw more people hook up in the tavern than she had in all her years of high school and college. How there wasn't a rampant outbreak of STDs, she didn't know. One thing was certain: it was always funny when a mage and templar snuck away, hoping nobody else was the wiser.

§

The tavern namesake visited once.

Inquisitor Trevelyan was an average woman, discounting the whole living legend bit. She dressed in fine but unassuming clothes. She wore no crown and carried no weapons. The crowd didn't notice her until she had reached the Chargers' unofficial corner.

It was then that Cherry learned on a deeper level what it meant to be the Herald. Evelyn Trevelyan could never let loose and have fun. No one flirted with her. No one joked too much. Hell, nobody uttered a word they wouldn't dare say in front of their mother.

The Inquisitor didn't come again.

§

Things were winding down for the night. Cabot left early, trusting the Ing-glish girl to close up shop.

He slid onto a stool, empty mug thudding on the bar between them. "Got any more _maraas-lok_ back there?"

"Just for you, Bull." Cherry smiled and retrieved a half-full bottle.

He watched with a gimlet eye as she poured him a shot. "Why not pour yourself one, too?"

After a hesitant glance around at the vacant tavern, she did.

Bull knocked back the liquor and gave a satisfied hiss. "Now, _bas_ , tell me how someone like you learns Qunlat."

She choked mid-drink.

 **to be continued...**


	4. Suspicious

**Suspicious**

* * *

"I assure you, Sister Leliana, the girl has no magic." Solas reclined in his chair, considering the spymaster. "You can ask any of the mages. She shows no signs and has no symptoms of mana buildup."

The redhead began to pace in front of his desk. "Then how did she get here?"

"We know magic must be involved. The specifics, however, are not clear."

"It can't have been a rift… could it? Surely we would know if one had opened so close to Skyhold. And Evelyn would have needed to close it."

"That is correct."

Leliana sighed. "Thank you, Solas."

§

Metal clanged against wood. Cassandra paused in her attack, catching her breath long enough to speak. "We've been over this. I have sensed no lyrium in the girl's veins."

"Yes, but how often are you around Cherry?"

"Not that often, I'll admit." The Seeker struck out with her sword again, catching the dummy on its neck. A sneer curled her lip as she glanced at Leliana. "And stop using the dwarf's ridiculous nickname."

"As soon as you stop referring to Varric as 'the dwarf', I will." Blue eyes danced with mirth. "You can't stay angry with him forever, you know."

§

"Cherry? Well… I don't know. She don't talk much."

"Kinda keeps to herself, yeah? Quiet."

"She talks funny. I think she's strange. I heard tell they found her out in the snow, raving like a lunatic."

"Cabot likes her. Maybe because she doesn't throw herself at every man that walks through the door, Katherine!"

From a room in the back, muffled: "I heard that!"

"He does let her run the bar when he takes a night off. Not often, mind. She knows her way around back there, though."

Sister Nightingale thanked the tavern serving girls before sending them all away.

§

Master Dennet was tending to Scout Harding's mount when she found him in the barn. He greeted her with a nod of his bald head.

"You are familiar with Cherry?"

The question gave him pause. "Who?"

"Brown eyes, freckles, and speaks with an accent. She is… fond… of alcohol and works under Cabot at the tavern."

"Oh, her," the old horsemaster said. "I should've known you would be around. Well, I'm afraid I have nothing to tell you, Sister. The girl visits the horses once in a while. Takes comfort in them, I think. We don't exactly talk."

"I see."

§

"What do you have for me?" Leliana was straight to the point as the qunari mercenary strode up the stairs to the rookery.

Bull came prepared. He let a written report fall to the spymaster's desk as he said, "She's still a liar. Tried to tell me she knew a tal-vashoth family once, picked up some words and phrases from them."

"Did you determine her fluency?"

"Yeah, she at least told the truth about that." He shrugged. "Basic shit. Can't speak in complete sentences. It's almost like she spent time around the antaam. She knows a lot of military terms."

 **to be continued...**

* * *

2016.09.25: IMPORTANT: There are currently five reviews on this story, but I am unable to read them. Hopefully FFN corrects the issue soon. I just didn't want anyone to think I was ignoring them or that I don't appreciate you guys taking the time to leave reviews. Nothing could be further from the truth! Receiving a review, even if it's just a simple message, always makes my day. :)

I probably won't be able to post a new chapter tomorrow. Expect another in roughly two days.


	5. Accusations

**Accusations**

* * *

"Why don't you and I take a walk?"

"You wait for me, now you want walk with me? What will Katherine think?" Cherry said with a bravado she didn't feel. "Bull, you break her heart."

He chuckled. "If Katherine wants more than a night of fun from me, that's her problem. Seriously though, it's not like that. The boss wants to speak with you."

"What?" Her eyebrows shot up. "In-quis-it-or wants speak with me? Why?"

All humor evaporated from his face. "We both know you aren't that stupid. Finish closing up and let's go. Wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting."

§

Her heart hammered in her ears as they stood in front of the door to the Inquisitor's quarters.

"Interesting."

Cherry startled and whirled around, a jolt of adrenaline shooting through her body. "Do not do that!" Brown eyes glared out from under thick eyebrows. "You scare me!"

Bull smirked. "Well, I'll say this: if you _are_ a spy, you're the worst spy I've ever met. Your reactions are shit."

"Not a spy!"

"Mind explaining how you knew the way here, then?"

She blinked. "You show me?"

"No." He shook his horned head. "You led me up here."

Her stomach clenched.

§

Gone was the average Evelyn Trevelyan who had visited the tavern several days ago. In her place was a stoic leader dressed in the finest armor and leathers money could buy. Bathed in shadows and candlelight, her face was a frightening mask of stone. "Cherry, is it?" She gestured to an ornate chair in front of her desk. "Please, sit."

If not for Bull at her back, conveniently blocking the stairway, she might've made a run for it. Instead, she took a deep breath and clenched her trembling hands.

"Hello, Inquisitor," she said, moving forward to take the offered seat.

§

"Josephine tells me your Common is greatly improved." The Herald's eyes flicked over to where Bull remained standing. "I've also been made aware that you have a basic understanding of Qunlat."

Although the pause was a clear opening to speak, Cherry remained quiet.

"I have some questions," Evelyn continued. "Your mother tongue is Ing-glish? I've never heard of that before. I was hoping you could give me more information about it."

Still, she didn't say a word.

"Could you tell me where it is spoken? Perhaps a local dialect of some other language? I'm told it sounds similar to Ander."

§

What could she possibly tell them about home? Informing them they were all supposed to be fictional characters seemed wrong. She wasn't even sure if it was the truth any more. Everyone she had met in Thedas was a real person with individual thoughts and emotions. Looking back, the games had been a pale shadow of the vibrant life she saw in Skyhold.

There were two options: tell the truth, or lie.

Telling the truth meant they might—they _would_ —label her insane.

Lying… well, she _had_ been lying. It hadn't worked.

What was the best way to help everyone?

§

Evelyn switched tactics. She shifted in her grand chair and leaned forward. "You must know how this all looks. My commander found you in the snow. You just… appeared! Out of nowhere! You speak two foreign languages, one of which belongs to a hostile people—no offense, Bull—and your fellow tavern workers report that you are detached and aloof. You have to admit it all sounds suspicious."

Cherry shook her head. "Not a spy! I promise!"

"Then explain," the Inquisitor pressed. "Tell me how you got here. Tell me about your language. And tell me why you speak Qunlat."

§

"She isn't lying. Not about this."

A boy in patchwork clothes and a wide-brimmed hat stood on the Inquisitor's desk. Cherry stared up at him, positive he hadn't been there a second ago. Her mouth dropped open when she finally realized who he was: Cole! She had forgotten he existed until the very moment she'd laid eyes on him.

Pale blue eyes looked down at her in confusion. "You… know me?"

"You know him?" Evelyn's stare was accusing. "Wait, Cole—she isn't lying? How do you two know each other?"

"No." The spirit boy shook his head. " _She_ knows _me_."

 **to be continued...**

* * *

2016.09.28: I can now read reviews! To those of you who have left comments, thank you. :) If ever you have trouble reaching me here on FFN, this story is also being posted on Ao3 under the same pen name. For now, however, the issue has been corrected.


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